


The Nature of Men

by Midnight Wolf (Larkawolfgirl)



Series: Dare to Write Challenge [11]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Midnight%20Wolf
Summary: Sansa thought she knew men, but in reality she knew nothing of Jon Snow—Jon Targaryen (her half-brother, cousin, love of her life and now husband). How silly it was that only after giving up all hopes of finding a chivalrous gentleman of old did she find one, one she never had to find, for he had always been there just beyond her sights.





	The Nature of Men

**Author's Note:**

> For the Dare to Write challenge. Prompt: pink blushes and blue bruises
> 
> I wrote this months ago in my head on the way to work, but when I finally got around to actually finishing the typed version I thought I had lost the Word doc. I luckily found it last night and finished writing it.

Sansa Stark thought she knew men. As a child, she grew up with the gallant tales of chivalrous knights and romantic couplings. The only thing she could see beyond what already laid before her eyes was a dreamy relationship with a man who stood above the rest. In those days, it seemed second nature to see the good in people and to imagine lazy days wrapped in the arms of a gentleman.

Then, all too suddenly, her eyes were opened to the true nature of man and the hash reality of the world she lived in. Now she knew the violent wrath of Joffery Baratheon. The bitter brutality of Ramsey Bolton. The chilled manipulation of Petyr Baelish. Dreams felt miles away, replaced by a future as barren as a winter wasteland. But winter was in her blood; she would persevere.

She knew men. She knew their rough touch and hungry passions. She knew what it was a man wanted and knew how to pretend she liked it. (It had been branded into her skin and mind so that she would never forget).

This was why she was already mentally prepared for what would happen even before Jon closed the bedchamber door. It was fine, as long as it was Jon. She wouldn’t mind it no matter how many bruises he left or how sore she was afterward. This was something she had agreed to—unlike so many things in her life as of late.

It might even be tolerable.

She was already laying limp on the bed before he turned toward her. She expected his eyes to ignite at the way her head lolled to the side and her breasts swelled, but instead his lips turned down in a frown.

“Sansa,” he said in a small voice. Jon approached her slowly. Sitting near her, he reached over and stroked her cheek.

Sansa blinked. This was not the reaction she expected, and it put her on edge. “Don’t you want me?”

His face tightened. “Of course I want you. I would not have wed you if that were not the case.”

His words made her smile. She sat up and leaned in. Her breath hit his neck in the way she knew Baelish always liked. Soon after, her hand traced its way down his torso to the hem of his trousers, but just as she began to pull at the strings tying them, his hand caught hers.

“Sansa,” he said again, but this time it was more commanding.

She stilled, wholly lost now. “Jon, I don’t—”

Her words were cut short by a kiss. It was not her first kiss—not even with him—but it might have well been—it was that world shattering. Heat flooded her head and cheeks and her breath grew shallower. His tongue touched hers softly, purposefully. A slight tingle spread over her skin when his hand rubbed circles into her side. When he pulled back, she slumped her head onto his shoulder, feeling light-headed.

“That was—”

“Wonderful,” he finished for her.

She giggled lightly.

“Would you mind if I touched you?”

Sansa wondered if her head was in worse shape than she thought. Men do not ask; they take. “Of course, my Lord.”

Jon placed a finger to her lips. “Just lie down. Make yourself comfortable.” He spoke evenly, caringly. Even now, he was still Jon, it seemed.

She laid back, letting her limbs settle themselves, but her eyes never left his, studying them. When she looked closely enough, there was something new in his eyes. But it wasn’t the hunger or desire she’d seen in other men.

It was silly to have any expectations at this point, seeing as he had thrown them to the wind, yet she still found herself surprised when he stopped lifting the hem of her nightgown at her waist. His hands ran slowly along her thighs and calves, his mouth traveled down and kissed along them. He seemed in no hurry. There was such gentleness that Sansa could feel tears begin to well up. What was this ,she wondered, this odd sensation which was overcoming them.

Finally, Jon lowered her undergarments, leaving her sex exposed. Again, she watched him intently, waiting for him to finish what she had started with his trousers, but instead he did something unfathomable; he brought his mouth to her. His tickling breath was oddly pleasant before wetness followed. Her mind blanked, thoughts impossible through this entirely new sensation. Unconsciously, her hand found the back of his head, holding him in place as if commanding he continue. His head rocked as he moved his tongue along her, igniting nerves she never knew she had. Her back arched, seeking more. She could feel his lips curl at the shrill noise that escaped her. His hands tugged her torso closer, pushing even deeper, and her body welcomed him with reverence.

Her body was light, floating high into a weightless vacuum of ecstasy. There was nothing besides him and the feelings he was bringing out of her. Sansa’s chest heaved, breath shallowing. Intense heat rushed under her skin and every nerve seemed to tighten. There was so much—too much—and then, it was gone, replaced by a wave of tranquility.

Her body slumped, boneless, and a sweet sigh fell from her lips. Jon righted her clothing before leaning down to peak her cheek. “You are my queen now, and you will be treated like one.”

Her mouth opened, but her words died on her tongue. They were pointless, her questions and rebuttals. This was Jon, who she had known all her life. It had been silly of her to assume he could ever be anything other than who she knew that he was.

“You, Jon _Targaryen_ , _”_ she said the name as prim and proper as she could, “are a good man. A man among men.”

He chuckled, causing his hair to obscure the tops of his eyes. Sansa reached up, brushing the strands of hair aside.

“I mean it,” she said in all sincerity.

Jon took her arm, turning it so as to place a kiss at her wrist. “And you, my _Lady_ , have been treated most poorly, something I wish to remedy.”

Her smile touched her eyes. “That would be much obliged.”


End file.
